by Jaine Fenn
‘I’m fine for now,’ said Jarek. ‘How long do you think they’ll keep us waiting before they speak to us?’
‘It should not be too long,’ Ain said. ‘Any delay at this stage will be due to last-minute power-brokering behind the scenes.’
Another less-than-reassuring thought. Alone in his room, Jarek’s paranoia redoubled, and he got up to check the door; it opened when he approached, which was a relief. He resisted the urge to pace and instead sat on the hard chair until, bored and uncomfortable, he tried lying on the bed. He’d almost managed to relax enough to close his eyes when his com chirped.
‘We have been summoned,’ Ain said.
‘Right. Guess we’d better go then.’
It was a short walk, and this time they didn’t encounter anyone on the way. Ain led them to a dimly lit circular room. She looked at them both and asked if they were ready.
Jarek glanced at Nual and then nodded at Ain while Nual murmured her assent.
The room darkened further until they were surrounded by darkness, and the floor began to move, which did nothing for Jarek’s nerves. Slowly, pinpricks of light appeared around them.
When Ain had referred to the heart of the Consensus as the Star Chamber, Jarek hadn’t realised she meant it this literally. Their platform was rising into the centre of a projection of Aleph, positioned where the system’s sun would be in reality. Jarek had no idea how big the Chamber was, but the illusion of being surrounded by infinite space was certainly convincing. They looked out across a disc of coloured lights, with a few scattered dots above and below.
One particularly bright light, close enough that Jarek had to blink to focus on it, flashed three times, and a voice said, ‘Consensus in Session. Date as per register. Single item agenda: request from the visiting human-space delegation.’ The voice was dry, efficient and even-toned: the very essence of impartiality. ‘The following septs register vetoing objections to the presence of a Sidhe female in the Consensus. They waive all voting rights for this session . . .’ The Arbiter listed some two dozen names, then added, ‘A further sixty-seven septs make formal complaint, but do not employ right of veto. Their names are recorded in the annotations.’
Jarek reminded himself that as a percentage of the total number of septs in the Aleph system, ninety or so wasn’t that many.
Several lights around the projection started flashing. Jarek looked down and noticed his com was also going off silently; with the screen still furled and nothing in here to project against all he could see was tiny text speeding across the display, far too fast to read.
Ain, noticing the direction of his gaze, whispered, ‘Having the Arbiter speak aloud is partly a way of reinforcing decisions, and partly a concession to what they perceive as human frailty. Most of the action is going on in the background.’
The Arbiter spoke again. ‘All comments are noted. One valid query is chosen. Recognise Last-Cloud-of-Fire, rep:Chaos in Motion.’
The frantic flashing stopped, except for one light above them, in the halo beyond the main mass of the ecliptic. When the voice spoke up it sounded tetchy, although the voices were as much an illusion as the celestial bodies apparently filling the chamber. ‘Statement: This female is the first we have seen for a thousand years. She claims to be a rebel. Query: What evidence is presented for this claim?’
‘Clarification: we assume you do not wish the female to be granted speaking rights?’ asked the Arbiter drily.
‘Negative! We wish to ascertain the reason for her presence and agenda.’
‘Clarification: that is what this session is for. We remind you – and any others who might have forgotten – of the resolution reached at our last meeting, to whit: although we have not been openly at war with the females for a millennium, we view their attempt to deploy a mindbomb against one of our brothers in human-space as an end to our truce with them.’
The cold declaration chilled Jarek’s soul. But it was personal too. That’s my sister you’re talking about there, God rest her.
The Arbiter continued, ‘Clarification of previously stated protocol: anyone wishing a private audience with the female can request one. We will grant limited access to non-hostile sept representatives according to a randomised selection routine. If your patron’s location precludes real-time contact and he does not grant his avatars full autonomy, we suggest allying yourself with a trusted in-system sept. In your own time, not that of the Consensus.’ Jarek decided he must have imagined the small sound of annoyance that followed the Arbiter’s comment. A few more lights flashed, before dying down again.
‘Now, lingua,’ continued the Arbiter, ‘state your case.’
Jarek expected Ain to be nervous. The patrons had no advance warning of the business a lingua brought to the Consensus, and the requests Ain was about to make were likely to cause a degree of upset. But as she started, she sounded calm and confident. This was, she had told them, what she was born to do.
‘Honoured patrons, this lingua has three points to raise. First, this lingua wishes to formally register complaints of abuses that require investigation, specifically, the assaults upon the habitat created to house the visitors, and a more recent attempt to disable their ship.’
‘We are aware of these incidents. The formal complaint on behalf of your charges is noted,’ said the Arbiter.
More lights flashed, and after a moment or two the Arbiter said, ‘Ruling: as several septs wish to comment, we will choose a representative speaker for the isolationist cause. Recognise Indiroth, rep:The Grave and the Constant.’
The male had a pleasant, youthful-sounding voice; ‘his’ celestial body was near the representation of the Consensus, though lower on the ecliptic. ‘Statement: the intruders disrupt the pattern of our home. They must be eliminated, especially the female. Any attempts made by any sept to achieve this should not be taken personally.’
Just how the hell do you expect us to take it? Jarek bit his tongue; Ain had warned them to stay silent unless directly questioned by the Arbiter.
‘Query: is this an admission of responsibility by your sept?’ asked the Arbiter drily.
‘Negative. We merely wish to point out how disruptive the outsider presence is, and how its removal cannot come soon enough.’
‘Noted. Lingua, you may continue.’
‘Thank you, Arbiter. The second point is in regard to the beacon requested by and promised to the visitors. The sooner they have this item, the sooner they will leave. Given the attempts on the visitors’ lives while they were out-system, this individual felt it was logical to bring them to the location of the item they came here seeking. This way, they may wait in safety, and can take the beacon as soon as it is ready.’ For the first time, Ain’s voice faltered. ‘This lingua realises that in facilitating this she may have passed on information not intended for the visitors’ ears, specifically, the location of the source of beacons. If the Consensus disagrees with this lingua’s decision she will accept chastisement.’
Jarek had no idea how seriously Ain might be punished for taking them into her confidence, but he was relieved to see relatively few flashes going off. The Arbiter said, ‘Ruling: no immediate irreconcilable objections have been raised to your decision. However, we have also informed the Council of Lingua, and they may wish to question your actions. Was there a request associated with this statement?’
‘Affirmative: to ask whether the beacon is ready yet.’
‘No,’ said the Arbiter shortly. ‘The visitors will be informed when it is. Proceed to your final point.’
This was the tricky one. The last time he’d been in a situation like this, sworn to silence while someone who – hopefully! – knew what she was doing put his case for him, Jarek had been up against ignorant peasants, not god-like male Sidhe. And his life was not the only one in danger. He stole a look at Nual; she appeared composed, gazing out with interest at the entrancing illusion surrounding them.
Ain said, ‘Patrons, the visitors were told that the first “acc
ident” on the habitat resulted in the death of the third member of Captain Reen’s crew. However, there is reason to believe that Taro sanMalia is not dead.’
Now lights lit up, lots of them, all over. The Arbiter himself raised the obvious question. ‘Query: what evidence have you for this assertion?’
They’d discussed this: how to make their case without directly accusing the Consensus of lying, especially as it looked like the Gatekeeper had acted with their knowledge, if not their actual permission. Ain had confirmed Jarek’s suspicion that making such an accusation would be dangerous, if not downright fatal: the Consensus’ power relied on being seen to be open and impartial – even when it wasn’t. Jarek clenched his fists. Let’s hope they’d made the right decision.
‘Honoured patrons,’ Ain said calmly, ‘this lingua can convey only what has been told to her. The Sidhe Nual knows that Taro sanMalia is alive.’
‘We hardly need remind you,’ said the Arbiter, ‘of the one thing we all agree on: the word of a Sidhe female is worthless. And we are all aware that the female can make you think whatever she wants you to think.’
‘This lingua agrees: she cannot be entirely sure that coercion has not been employed. However, this lingua is as sure as it is possible to be that she acts and speaks freely. Taro sanMalia is alive. And the Sidhe Nual requests that he be returned to the visitors’ ship before it departs.’
‘Query: why?’ asked the Arbiter.
‘He is her lover,’ said Ain.
‘We have had no indication of such a relationship until now.’
‘That is because the Sidhe Nual had a premonition. It convinced her to hide her feelings.’
The Chamber was silent unless someone had been given the floor to speak, so it was hard to tell, but Jarek could have sworn Ain’s comment actually shut them up, at least for a couple of seconds. Then a crazy ripple of lights filled the darkness.
The Arbiter appeared to be ignoring the furore erupting around him. ‘And she admits perpetrating this deception because of her “premonition”?’
‘She does. She has a high regard for her own intuition. She did not see how hiding this fact would make any difference.’
Aside from saving Taro’s life, thought Jarek.
‘Precognition is extraordinarily rare.’ The Arbiter almost sounded like he was talking to himself now. ‘Her duplicity reinforces the general opinion the Consensus holds of her kind. Whether it constitutes an insult, or an unexpected honesty that could be seen as verification of her apparent wish to eschew her sisters, is an interesting question – fascinating, even.
‘Lingua, do you have anything to add to your statement?’
‘No, Arbiter.’
‘Then your part is done. The Consensus will consider your request regarding the human boy. It is likely that your charges will be subject to questioning. Until then you will remain in your rooms.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Taro wished he had some way to clean the blood off his hands, but there was no water, no cloth, nothing at all useful in this stupid white, soulless fucking ship. In the end he used Vy’s clothes – it wasn’t like the poor bastard needed them any more. Despite the calm that filled his head whenever he used his blades, he felt sick to the depths of his stomach, because this wasn’t combat. This was butchery.
Having done what Vy wanted, now he couldn’t stop crying. Pathetic. Pointless tears kept flowing while the avatar’s body cooled behind him. After a while he crawled onto the bridge so he wouldn’t have to look at what he’d done.
Thanks to what he’d found out from Vy it was more vital than ever that he spoke to Nual. She had to know what he’d discovered. And he had a mission of his own now.
He sat on the floor, head tilted back against the wall, waiting for the sobbing and shaking to stop, trying to think of some way out of the shit he’d managed to get himself into. Perhaps he should have another look at the control wall, or maybe go outside and see what—
‘Haallooo!’
He stood up as the high-pitched cry came again. ‘Who is it?’ he called back.
The strange voice shouted something incomprehensible.
Wary of a trap, he sidled up to the door, squeezing his eyes shut to encourage his night-vision. When he peered outside he saw six locals, armed with spears, flanking a hunched-up old cove with bonus white ornaments and a really wild hairdo.
‘Er, yes?’ said Taro.
‘Be welcome!’ said Big Hair expansively.
Taro hadn’t found the first lot of locals particularly welcoming. ‘Thanks,’ he said cautiously. ‘And hello to you too.’
‘Offer: we have gifts.’
One of Big Hair’s mates held something small up in his two hands to demonstrate.
‘Light of earth. Gift. Then talk.’ Big Hair had a gappy accent, but he spoke slowly and carefully.
Taro wasn’t convinced, but he needed all the help he could get. ‘Sounds good to me.’
Big Hair put a palm out and down, then raised his hand and pointed to the ship. ‘Talk there?’
‘How about I stay on the ship and you lot stay down there?’
Big Hair looked confused and Taro repeated his offer more slowly, with hand gestures.
‘Offer: gifts, then talk. There.’ Big Hair sounded pretty certain about coming up.
Whilst Taro didn’t want anyone to see the state of things in the other room, neither did he want to leave the safety of the ship. Better to meet the locals here, where the ship’s gravity would slow them down if things turned nasty.
‘You’d better come up then,’ he said. He pointed at the pair of spear-men nearest Big Hair. ‘Just you and those two, right?’
There was some muttering, then Big Hair and the guards Taro had picked out came forward. Taro stepped back to give them room to climb onto the ship, which they did with some difficulty, the two guards hauling Big Hair up between them.
As well as spears, the guards carried long sacks slung crosswise across their bodies. From the look of it, whatever was in the sacks was pretty heavy. As they stood blinking in the bright light, Big Hair turned to one of the guards, who gave him the round, flattish container he’d been waving around earlier. Big Hair unscrewed the top to reveal a bowl of luminous green-yellow goo. ‘Receive gift: light of earth,’ he said with relish, and held out the bowl.
‘Very nice,’ said Taro, smiling carefully. ‘Why don’t you just put it over there’ – he pointed to the corner of the room – ‘and I’ll find somewhere for it later.’
Big Hair wobbled his head like his neck was stiff. Combined with the screwed-up eyes the effect was pretty funny, though Taro made sure he didn’t laugh. Big Hair said, ‘Gift for now. To eat.’
‘You want me to eat that sh— stuff?’
‘Light of earth. To eat. Hosp-i-table.’
Taro was pretty hungry, and he didn’t want to piss the visitors off. ‘That’s good, but how about you eat some, then I eat. Right?’ He backed up his words with exaggerated hand gestures. He didn’t want to get poisoned, either.
Big Hair looked offended and Taro tensed, ready to defend himself if he’d fucked up.
Then Big Hair did a slightly different head-wobble and said, ‘Honour to eat first.’ He dipped a hand into the gloop and licked the stuff off his fingers like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Then he held the bowl out to Taro.
‘Thanks,’ said Taro. As he closed the distance between them, he kept a wary eye on the guards. His nose was filled with the stink of unwashed bodies, and he could make out their weapons and ornaments more clearly now. The spears were tipped with bone and the ornaments were made from it too . . . or rather, from the look of the wrinkled, scabby skin at the edge of them, grown from bone – human bone. Taro wasn’t too freaked – his most valued possession was a flute made from his birth-mother’s arm-bone – but it appeared that, like the Undertow, this was a place where nothing, not even a human body, went to waste.
He took the bowl, and thanked them. When the
y looked at him expectantly he scooped up an experimental fingerful of goo and put it in his mouth. It tasted chill and bitter, but it would fill the hole in his belly and soothe his dry throat. They continued to squint meaningfully at him so he carried on eating, wiping his finger round the bowl when he’d done and giving a small belch.
He put the bowl on the floor. ‘That was delicious. Sorry, I ain’t got nothing to offer you in return.’
‘Offer: we have rock,’ said Big Hair, with what sounded like pride in his voice. ‘Good rock. Gift of rock, then more talk.’
‘Great,’ said Taro, wondering what they were on about.
Big Hair half turned to the others and muttered at them, still watching Taro from the corner of his eye. The two guards began rummaging in their sacks. Big Hair stepped back and stood aloof, a half-smile on his face.
Taro decided to take advantage of the pause. ‘Er, listen,’ he said, ‘what I really need is to find others like me.’
‘Query: others like me?’
‘No, others like . . . people, with ships – like this one. And people who—’ People who aren’t freakishly tall and covered in shit and scabs. ‘I need to find outsiders. Visitors.’
‘Visitors,’ said Big Hair enthusiastically. ‘Good!’
‘So are there any here? Could you take me to them?’
‘Visitors,’ said Big Hair again. ‘Statement: we have rock. Good rock. See?’ He stepped back and the guards straightened. They each held several lumps of rock in their cupped hands. Taro had no idea what the rocks were, though they did have a faint sheen to them.
Big Hair said, ‘Offer: we find more. Father’s father’s father find more. We save. We wait.’
‘Good for you. Are they for me, then?’ They appeared to be expecting him to actually check out the rocks.
He obliged, picking up a particularly shiny rock, hefting it in his hand, nodding sagely all the while. The effort of holding the rocks was beginning to tell on the visitors; the guard’s arms were twitching and one man dropped one of his rocks. ‘Listen, you can put them down now.’